Rip
by yume girl 91
Summary: On a moonless night, Ulquiorra encounters another like him...a pure white being. AU 5th from the 64-Damn Prompts series


Prompt.5: Rip

The desert stretched endlessly out before him.

The black creatures stayed away now.

Farther.

He saw them tear apart prey from a distance, running the five humanoid fingers of his left hand over his mask. The solid expanse never failed to break.

They fed.

He wandered on, beneath the bone white moon. For a time encountering nothing to his eyes, nothing permanent, all transient like the lower forms of life scampering into hillocks, lizards. Black creatures occasionally distorted the pure white of the moon, wings bearing them aloft closer to the cold light.

They were meaningless...like he was.

Despite their fangs they could only bare their fangs at _la luna_.

Even so...he wandered...walked alone.

In the distance, screams arose, punctuated by howls. Triumphant howls, he would've contrived to guess, made by more of the black creatures. This assumption wasn't proved by his eyes, a newer sensation however preceding the dismissal from his mind.

Breath puffs issued forth in white clouds.

Chills rippled across his bare arms, had he a name for the sensation, it would've been..._cold_. His heightened senses skimmed the dunes, eventually pinpointing the source of the disturbance. Speed beyond a Shinigami's, crested the space, alighting elegantly above a sand valley, his eyes drifted down to the center of the desolate crater, first startled at the strange jagged shapes like crystalline diamonds erupting from the barren grit, forming splash-like around a tiny bowed figure.

This figure...ripped with tiny claw-like fingers, the black flesh of a crushed being. This figure...was like him. Pure white body, narrow shoulders giving way to darker tinged wings that trailed through sickly crimson splotches. This being who lifted the chunk of flesh, suddenly turned, masked face lifting to stare challengingly at him.

Unbidden, his body moved forward, descending into the frozen tundra this other had created. At the edge of it, he stopped; gauging her wariness.

Watching her, watch him.

She was a female. Of that he discerned, glimpsing the rounded curve of her breast bone, a perfect circle of emptiness resided directly over the place of her heart, a most human thing the beating organ was. The female's mask was ornate, painted by a skilled hand it almost seemed, violet lines descending in a downward v between the eye holes where feral eyes of the same color as her mask markings, stared fixatedly out. More lines curved elegantly over narrow cheekbones, tips meeting at the protuberance of rows of teeth. A single horn jutted out the side of her head, tumbled black locks framed her mask, slats falling to her narrow shoulders.

Again, his mind made the distinction.

This one was unlike the black creatures.

She was like him.

He was unsure as of yet why the distinction was important. A sudden motion from the female drew his thoughts from the trivial. She extended a gore-covered hand to him, within her almost delicate claws was a piece of the kill.

"Useless." He responded, for though he possessed a voice, there was no teeth visible like the black ones, no jaws from which to prise apart a prey's flesh. The female stared at him, head tilted to the side in a quizzical manner as if he was an intricate puzzle she couldn't figure out. The action was surprisingly human-like, even more so, as she set the offering down and rose to a full diminutive height furthering his notion that she was very small for a Hollow.

And stepped closer. Feet that had been curled beneath her, were long-clawed, slightly wide like webbed water-dweller's feet, sank in the grainy sands. Another detail he had failed to notice before, was the ragged scant fur adorning her middle, draping her hips. She paused a short space away, then touched her own fang-lined jaws, curious.

He did not wish for the hand coated in the blood of the kill to touch him and quite violently knocked her aside, her nearly weightless body crashing discordantly into the ice. Sheets of crystals tinkled over the milky skin, slicing shallow red wounds into it.

Finding it of little use to remain, his dragging wings slowly lifted, caressing the air currents, propelling his lithe body upward to the night. Then in the midst of his flight, the female moved down below, a hand whose touch was colder than ice, latched at the very edge of his leathery wingspan and yanked mightily, the imbalance was immediate.

The other wing beat futilely, attempting to keep the main body abreast of the currents, but a tug, a peculiar clenching of thin pointed digits seemed to sear into his nerve endings, the burning inflamed his freezing veins, the sensation spreading alarmingly to his chest.

Ulquiorra was could not describe the other sensation he had when the hand let go, when he plummeted back to sand and desolation. The feet of the female landed momentarily against his abdomen and stomped quite disgustedly a few times before leaping off, using the momentum to push herself high into the sky, her own wings spreading.

The female turned back once, silhouetted by the glow of the ethereal moon, a different kind of expression on her masked face - she was - _smirking_. And with that last toss of mockery, she vanished into the shadows of the desert world.

Disclaimer: don't own Bleach.

AN: very AU. Based a little from Ulquiorra's past revealed in the Bleach Unmasked book. Except in this little world o' mine, he doesn't lie in the quartz -.- and Rukia is a Hollow. Explanations will be forthcoming and in another prompt Aizen shows up. ^^

No flames, haters, stupid comments!

Reviews always loved ^^


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